


The 82nd Most Popular Name in the United States

by Vamillepudding



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Trans Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamillepudding/pseuds/Vamillepudding
Summary: Dean knows how soulmarks work. But as he changes his name from Dee to Dean, he wonders how (if?) this is going to affect his soulmate's mark.





	The 82nd Most Popular Name in the United States

**Author's Note:**

> For ididitfordestiel, whose tumblr account I was going to link, but I already tried this like 5 times and it won't work, so like, nevermind.

**Then**

The annoying thing about soulmates, Dean reflected, was that it never went like in the stories. There was no eye contact across a room full of people and generally very little swooning. Dean’s parents, he knew, had met on the tube, and that was one of the more romantic stories out there. 

His soulmark, sprawled across his left arm in a handwriting that looked embarrassingly like Comic Sans, simply said Cas, which was annoying, because if it was a nickname, it could be anything from Cassian to Casper, and that didn’t even account for all the female names out there. 

He had no idea what his soulmate’s mark would say, and wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.  
Better Cas than Tu Morrow, Sam had said the other day with a disgusted look at his own arm, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. A popular trend right now was to give one’s children the most obscure names possible, to make soulmate finding easier. Legal name changes had never been more popular, which suited Dean just fine.

Not many boys knew their exact age, but Dean knew that he was 16 years, 7 months, one week and one day old – a natural result of counting down the days to one’s 18th birthday. When he’d mentioned this at dinner the other day, Sam had frowned and suggested that Dean but a similar effort into his schoolwork, and in spite of being only 12 had sounded more like a father in that moment than John Winchester had ever managed. 

Sam, Dean thought, had every right to act like a dick with a soulmark like that. Still. There were reasons for looking forward to coming of age that went beyond what he was able to tell his little brother just yet. 

For the moment, he counted.

**

According to the internet, one in 349 American males was named Dean. This information did not help Castiel one bit, but it did entertain his brother a great deal. 

Castiel had long ago stopped being excited whenever he encountered someone from that name, which happened more than he cared for.

On a summer holiday in Kansas of all places, he’d met his last Dean just yesterday at the local convenience store, where ‘Dean’ had been a man in his forties who looked like he killed puppies for fun. Castiel had no particular opinion on puppies, but had still fled the store before Gabriel could leave the car in impatience and see what was holding his brother up. 

And now, there was Dee, who was definitely not called Dean, but whose smile did funny things to Castiel’s heart all the same. Well, that one time she had smiled at him, anyway, right before she asked if he could possibly move his car from her lawn before she lost her temper.

It had been enough to make Castiel fall in love, even as he awkwardly explained that Gabriel had driven them here and then just disappeared after saying ‘be back in five’, which had been half an hour ago. Dee had left in a huff after threatening to key his car, and Castiel knew in his teenaged heart that he’d remember her forever, or at least until they finally returned to New York, which would hopefully be soon because oh god, this town – if it could be called that – was killing him.

Kansas, Castiel decided, was not for him.

**Now  
**

If you’d told him ten years ago that he’d one day be attending his little brother’s college graduation ceremony, he’d have – well, he’d absolutely believed it, wouldn’t he? That didn’t make Dean any less proud, standing there in the crowd in between all these other families.

When Sam had gone up to receive his certificate and obligatory handshake with the dean (ha), Dean had shouted loudly and not given a damn about the indignant looks he received from some parents. 

Afterwards, Dean had wanted to take Sam out for dinner, but Sam had insisted on going to the party (“it’s not that kind of party, Dean”) hosted by his fellow graduates. He had also insisted that Dean go, declaring Dean unsociable and yet abandoning him within the first five minutes there.

So now, Dean stood alone, his leather jacket acting as a barrier between him and all the people in suits and dresses, nursing a beer. He felt out of place, and not just because of his lack of what Sam might call proper attire. After high school, he’d given college a go, but dropped out after less than a year. He wasn’t regretting his life choices, but looking at all these newly-graduates, he _was_ wondering what might have been. He- 

“Don’t I know you?” a guy suddenly asked. Dean gave him a quick once-over, noting his suit (of course), an ugly tie with reindeers on it, and dark messy hair that looked as though it had not seen a comb in at least a decade. He was pretty sure he’d remember someone like this. 

“Nope” he told him cheerfully. “Also, may I just say that this is the worst pick-up line ever, dude.” 

“I wasn’t trying to pick you up” the man said – and wasn’t that a disappointment? Eyes narrowed, he stared at Dean. “I’m sure I know you.” 

Just when Dean was about to tell him to back off, Sam reappeared, slinging an arm around Dean’s shoulders and giving him a tipsy smile. “Me, Jess and a few others are gonna leave, you coming?” 

“Thanks but no thanks” Dean told Sam, eyes on Mr Not-A-Pickup-Line, who had started to walk away. “You have fun, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow, check if you’re alive.” 

“Thanks, Dean” Sam said, and was gone again. Dean was about to leave, too, when he noticed that the other guy had suddenly turned around, intent stare back in place. 

“Your name is Dean?” he demanded. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Dean cleared his throat before saying: “Yes. Why?” 

“Ever been to Kansas?” 

“Grew up there.” 

“I spent the worst summer of my life there” the man said conversationally. “Lawrence, I believe it was called. Know it?” 

"My home town” Dean said warily. 

“I’m Cas.” 

Cas. 

Even though he knew that all the stories were bullshit, he could swear his arm was beginning to burn. When he pushed up his sleeve, the letters looked like a tattoo might right after the session. 

“You’re him” Dean said, and then added the first thing that came to his mind: “26 years I’ve had fucking Comic Sans on my arm. You have _no_ idea how much shit I’ve gotten for this.” 

“I apologise” Cas said, and sounded like he meant it. “I – I realise this might sound like a weird question, but do you remember telling someone you’d key their car? Would have been about 10 years ago.” 

The truth was that Dean didn’t remember. He’d been angry a lot at 16. But – wait a minute. 10 years ago, he would have been- 

“Let me see your arm.” It was a command more than it was a question. Cas tilted his head a fraction, but obliged, presumably wrinkling his shirt and jacket in the process of it. 

On his right arm, it said _Dean_ in a handwriting that was unmistakably his. 

Dean swallowed. 

“I think” he said, “I’m gonna go to a bar and get really shitfaced. Wanna join?” 

“Please.” 

On their way out, Cas said in an accusing way: “Did you know that ‘Dean’ is literally the 82nd most popular name in the United States?” 

“Yeah? What kind of name is Cas, anyway?” 

“Castiel.”

“Christ” Dean said in awe, “your parents have a lot to answer for.” 

It was gonna be alright, he thought. If tonight went bad, he could always key Cas’ car.  


End file.
